


Mission: Get To Base

by charmedward



Series: Modern AU [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: First Meeting, M/M, Modern AU, Modern Era, drunk Bucky, mission impossible references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-14
Updated: 2014-05-14
Packaged: 2018-01-24 17:45:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1613801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charmedward/pseuds/charmedward
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I saw this prompt on tumblr and just had to write it. </p><p>Prompt: i really want an “i accidentally broke into your house/apartment because my friend lives next door to you and i was in the area, drunk, and i thought i was climbing into the right window and falling asleep on the right couch (and i did wonder when my friend got two cats but i didn’t question it) so now i’m hungover and shirtless in your living room so um hi howya doin” au</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mission: Get To Base

“He’s fast.” Bucky runs down the alleyway, “He’s strong.” he pulls himself over a brick wall, “He’s got great hair.” a cat in the back garden gets a wink, “He’s a party animal.”

Bucky stops his narration when he nears the back of Natasha’s house, giggling to himself as he reaches the kitchen door. She was probably asleep now and he knew that meant he should enter quietly but somehow the concept of stealth wasn’t one he could take seriously in his inebriated state. He puts his finger to his lips as he removes a key from a pocket in his skinny jeans. The self-reminder of the need for silence is quickly disregarded as he struggles to get his key in the lock. Frowning, Bucky turns and stares at the cat sat on the garden path.

“You do this?” he slurs accusatory. 

With the long suffering sigh of a man who’s spent too many nights locked out post-party, the brunet slumps against the wall. He considers phoning Natasha but a more rational part of his brain thinks that she might yell at him (and if he was being honest, he was a little scared of his friend when she was pissed off). Instead he settles for humming the Mission Impossible theme song and winning the heart of his new four legged companion. 

“Here puss,”

The cat – a small tortoiseshell – turns her nose up him and refuses to come closer. Bucky tries not to take it personally. With a calculated wriggle, the feline springs up a few feet to an open window that had previously gone unnoticed by Bucky.

“Atta girl!” he cries.

Ignoring his thanks, the cat disappears inside the house. In his excitement at finding a way in, Bucky doesn’t stop to think that Natasha and her housemate don’t own a cat. He pulls the window open a little more and hoists himself up onto the sill. Tom Cruise had nothing on Bucky Barnes. His legs scramble for purchase against the brick and before he knows what he’s doing Bucky tips arse over face into the kitchen.

“Parkour” he murmurs, pushing himself to his feet.

The tortoiseshell watches him from the work surface opposite, unimpressed. Bucky tells himself he didn’t want to impress a cat anyway. 

There’s a noise upstairs as someone gets out of bed and crosses the hallway. Panicking, Bucky squints in the dark room and gropes the wall until he finds the doorway to the living room. If he could get to the sofa before Natasha got downstairs, maybe he could pretend to be sleeping. She might even blame the noise on the huffy cat.

But it isn’t Natasha that comes downstairs and flips on the living room light. 

The sudden light is blinding and Bucky has to shield his eyes for a moment while they adjust. The world spins a bit as he totters a few steps towards the nearest piece of furniture – a chrome desk. Natasha doesn’t have a desk in her living room.

“Who are you?” a steely voice asks sharply.

Lowering his hand, Bucky’s eyes land and focus on the source of the voice. He blinks twice. The person in front of him is easily six foot tall, built like an action figure and is angelically blond. His jaw is set with a frown, but current facial expression excused it would still be a jaw strong enough to carry the dreams of humanity. Furthermore he’s shirtless, sporting grey pyjama trousers and a baseball bat.

“Where’s Natasha?” Bucky replies.

His intoxication must be evident in his tone because the stranger relaxes a little. Blue eyes stare under furrowed eyebrows.

“There’s no one called Natasha here. I’d like you to l-”

“What house is this?”

Not-Natasha hesitates like he doesn’t see where this is going.

“Number 107, buddy.”

“Bucky.”

“Bucky?”

Nodding happily, Bucky looks around the room. The cat is back. She makes her way over to the small sofa in the middle of the room and rubs her side against it slowly. The penny drops.

“S’not the right house.” Bucky says, eyes fixed on the cat.

A laugh rings out across the room, startling the drunken man.

“Yeah I think you’re onto something there. I’m Steve, by the way. I take it you aren’t here to rob us?”

It’s phrased as a joke but there’s a hint of that steel still embedded in Steve’s tone. He’s set the bat down now and is leaning against the doorframe cautiously.

“I was- was meant to sleep with Natasha. On her sofa. Not with Natasha.” Bucky giggles at his clarification, “She’s gonna skin me for waking her.” he finishes with a frown at his legs, finding it increasingly hard to remain upright.

Steve seems to make the connection before Bucky does and in two gigantic strides he crosses the living room and catches Bucky as he falls backwards. Bucky’s giggles increase in both pitch and volume as he peaks up from his lashes as sees Steve holding him in a sort of dip as a shoddy attempt at catching him.

“Least buy me a drink first, punk.” he laughs breathlessly.

He doesn’t think he imagines the eye roll Steve gives him before he manhandles Bucky over to the sofa. He’s released with a sofa _thunk_ as he hits the cushions. 

“How about you rest up here tonight and we don’t bother Natasha with your…” Steve trails off.

“Devilish good looks.” Bucky suggests.

“Stench.” Steve finishes. There’s a hint of mirth in his eyes though so Bucky considers it a victory.

Steve disappears from sight for a moment then returns with a thick, cotton throw. Shaking it out, he drops it over his unexpected houseguest with an unreadable expression. He flinches when Bucky grabs his wrist with surprising strength.

“Thank you.” 

For a moment Steve thinks about saying he’d do this for anyone but it’s not strictly true. He thinks about saying he’d help anyone who couldn’t even walk without tripping over their own feet but that’s still probably not true. No, it’s more that Steve believes this guy is exactly what he seems, a drunk with no sense of direction. Granted, he doesn’t know Bucky and this could be a heinous mistake, but Steve looks down at Bucky’s chest rising and falling and sees the dog tags resting there. They glint in the artificial light, a literal glowing recommendation for this stranger. It isn’t a drunk that he trusts, it’s a fellow solider.

Speaking of which, there was another soldier waiting upstairs for a status report. Steve bids Bucky goodnight, heads to the stairs and calls up, “Sam! There’s a drunk guy on our sofa humming the Mission Impossible theme song.” 


End file.
